


Arsonist’s Lullabye

by MomtherSeries



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Gen, Grian centric, Hehe the title is stolen from Hozier, NO PROMISES THO, a oneshot from tumblr that I really like and may expand, powers!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomtherSeries/pseuds/MomtherSeries
Summary: No one questioned his singed hair and the scent of gunpowder that followed him.Of course, even the best lies crumble.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 190





	Arsonist’s Lullabye

_Request from anon on Tumblr: all the hermits have powers save for Grian, Grian knows the others have powers, but says nothing, the others are entirely oblivious (only if you want to write aus of course)_

Grian knew something was different the moment he entered the boundaries of Hermitcraft. The magic electrified the air, and it was simply obvious something was different about the players of this world. 

Grian could see it in the way Mumbo could draw redstone from the ground and move it as if it were alive. Xisuma seemed to process the code around him, more then an Admin would usually be able to do. He had created mini-blocks and altered the course of night, all in the name of convenience and aesthetics. BDubs controlled the forest, Doc was never hurt by mobs and Iskall’s teeth were a little too sharp and his vision a little too good. Scar and Cub were their own brand of powers, and the builder didn’t want to know what they did to make their eyes spark and their hands blaze with power. 

Grian came to realize very quickly that he was the only one without any sort of power or ability. It was terrifying. 

And so Grian pretended. He pretended TNT blasts came naturally, knowing that the explosives were really hidden beneath his feet. He practiced lighting the block as soon as it left his inventory, making it seem like the block simply materialized. He pretended that the too-close blasts didn’t hurt, and that the burns didn’t exist. He studied the radius and depth of each explosion, perfecting his damage so the others would think he was controlling it. 

He learnt how to craft different TNT blocks, ones that had never been seen before. To adjust them so they exploded faster and carved the land deeper. No one questioned his singed hair and the scent of gunpowder that followed him. 

Hermits never guessed that his power wasn’t natural. On a nether trip Tango commented that he wished for Grian’s ability. Grian had laughed it off, watching with exhausted eyes as Tango waded into the lava sea, unbothered, as Grian pulled out blocks to build a crossing. 

Of course, even the best lies crumbled. Grian’s fell apart when creating a new TNT block. The fuse was to short, the explosion ripping through his base. It was a miracle Grian was alive at all. His body burnt and his lungs filled with smoke and gunpowder, Grian knew he needed help. There was no hiding these injuries. 

Xisuma came as soon as Grian called, Zedaph and Joe in tow. As Zedaph controlled the water to put out the fires in the builders base, Joe muttered soothing words that knit Grian’s ribs together and grafted the skin on his torso and arms. The potions Xisuma dumped down his throat were amplified in an unnatural way, Grian choking on the sticky sweetness and any lie he could think of. 

When the fires were out and his body healed enough to stand, Grian held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. Zedaph left with a smile and wave, and Joe pleaded with Grian to call him if anything hurt. 

Xisuma stood by his side, not saying a word until the others were gone. He paused before frowning, feeling the consequence of each word before letting it join the sentence. 

“Grian, I hope you can trust us.” 

Each word hurt more then the explosion Grian had just been through. Grian smiled and nodded, hiding his shaking hands in the tattered ends of his sweater, and told himself they could never find out the truth. 

(Later, when Grian brushed off the incidence as him loosing control over anger, Zedaph said nothing about the mutilated TNT sticks he washed into the ocean.) 

(When Grian said he just wasn’t immune as he thought, but it was no big deal, Joe didn’t speak of the builder’s cries pain or extensive injuries, and how the poet didn’t know if he could save him.) 

(In Season 7, Xisuma watched Grian’s face fall when he realized he had to start over again.)


End file.
